


Right Back To Bed

by smudgay



Series: Space They Cannot Touch [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, short fic, side Leliana/Warden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-04-29 13:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5128787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smudgay/pseuds/smudgay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sera has trouble sleeping, so she stares at her girlfriend...in a totally not creepy way. The following day, Leliana finds herself doing something she never thought she would--relating to Sera.</p><p>Takes place post-game, but not during Tresspasser. Very small, like super small, barely noticeable, Tresspasser spoiler.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not glowing

Up, down, up, down--Sera finds comfort in the rise and fall of her lover's bare chest. Or rather, she finds comfort in the sight of Lavellan's bare chest, but the breathing is nice too. Good to know that your girlfriend is breathing. 

She sleeps on her back, which is strange to Sera, who is a die-hard side sleeper. The blonde likes go curl herself into an almost ball when she sleeps, which she's been told is odd for her, like it doesn't fit. They can shove it though, Sera knows she sleeps just fine, and Lavellan loves it. 

They fit together nicely, Sera curled against the inquisitor's side and the inquisitor with an arm thrown lazily over Sera, body almost turned to face her. 

Sera loves it.

Everything about Lavellan is a surprise, something Sera never thought she'd find. There was a gentleness, a patience, an openess and a sciencerty that Sera didn't know could exist quite the way it did wth Lavellan. And there was a playfulness hidden under it all, Sera liked the playfulness the best, it always sprung up at odd times. 

And she wasn't too serious, which was good, would be good, but isn't always. 

It's the protectiveness, the not-seriousness that led to the deflecting, the hiding away, the shouldering it all by yourself. 

It's the friggin' hand, Sera knows it hurts her, she's seen it. But the other elf won't admit to anything, won't reveal anything. Friggin' do-gooders and their do-it-all-myself attitudes, what did she know? Sera loved it though, of course she did. 

Playing with her girlfriend's fingers, Sera glares at the mark. It's glowy and green and hungry and spreading. It should go, Sera wants it to go. 

"Inky," she whispers, hoping her girlfriend might be awake to indulge her rampaging late-night thoughts. She isn't, and Sera sighs in response. 

She knows the hand is hurting her, she can see Lavellan shake in her sleep.

Why won't she admit it? 

It wasn't lying, the inquisitor is shite at lying, it's protecting.

But who is there to protect? What is she protecting? 

Either way, it's stupid.

In a grumble, Sera curled against the inquisitor's arm, they'd have to talk about it in the morning. 

Sera presses a soft kiss to Lavellan's arm, somehow hoping that it will take away all the pain.

It doesn't, and Sera finds herself disappointed as she drfits away.

 

 

 


	2. The unwritten rule of falling in love with a hero: you can't keep them to yourself, no matter  how much you try and you will try oh so hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this was late, I had half of it written but then couldn't remember what the other half was supposed to be lol sorry about that <3

The morning talk doesn't go the way Sera thought it would. There is less kissing, less hugging and less understanding and a lot more half-mumbled apologies, eyes being avoided and questions being tactfully un-answered. 

Sera doesn't get why. Its the hand, the friggin' hand. It hurts, just admit it so it can be made better, Sera knows she can make it better.

If it hurts then Sera will massage it, she'll even get the oils out, though she doesn't know if they actually help or just make things all shiny. 

But no, lady herald has business with the talky one and the curly one. And yes, "Sera, we'll talk about it later, promise". But Sera knows that tone, it means the inquisitor is going to spend the rest of the day thinking of a good enough not-answer to the simply enough question. Arse. 

Sera loves her, but sometimes it truly is testing. Suppose it's the way things go, but it would be nice without it. 

In a huff, the blonde is up the stairs, usually she shoots things full of arrows to calm anger, but today she seeks paper, and ink-- the good ink. The ink that Leliana uses to write the letters that she never sends. The expensive ink. The smooth, really dark ink that almost looks like blood, feels like it too. 

But at top the stairs is the scary one, Leliana, and Sera remembers that she doesn't really want to deal with her right now, especially not right now. 

"How can I help you, Sera?" Leliana asks, looking up from her papers only enough to see the elf.

The elf groans, "Nothing, need ink. No, not that ink, the good one."

Leliana pauses, taking the time to straighten herself out as Sera approaches her table. "The good ink?" Leliana raises an eyebrow, "We only carry one kind of ink." 

Sera groans again, knowing this was a deliberate ploy by the spymaster. Of course, the red-head must have known that someone was taking her ink, and of course, she wanted a straight confession out of Sera. It put the elf in a odd position, and not the kind that she liked getting in. Arse. 

"The ink you use when no one is looking, to write those letters you never send." Sera shrugs, "or the other ink, don't care, just need ink." 

Leliana nods slowly, noticing that this was Sera, and she didn't need to be so scripted for her, not that it stopped her, but she could at least loosen some of her guards. "How did you find out about it?" 

Sera shrugs again, "Was going to steal some bird poop, or feathers, or both, and I noticed you writing. Okay, not weird, the spymaster writes, yeah? But spymaster doesn't crumble and throw away letters, on to the floor, where everyone might see it. Or pick it up and store it, no one keeps garbage, that's weird." 

Leliana looks surprised, but the emotion is taken over with a more calculated look, "I've run out of that ink, actually."

"Piss." 

"Why did you want it?" 

"'Cause it's dark and easy to use. I need something dark right now." As soon as the words leave Sera's mouth, she regrets them. 

"What for?" The spymaster smiles, showing genuine concern for the elf. 

"Does it matter?"

"It helps, no? A trade then. You tell me, and I tell you." 

"Inquisitor is being dumb, 's'all." Sera says, almost too quick, "Won't admit her arm hurts, hiding it like it's a secret. We all know it." 

"I had no clue, actually."

"Well I friggin' know it." 

"I see," Leliana nods, slowly again. There's recognition in her eyes, Sera doesn't know what for. "Someone I know did the same thing. She was dying, but I wouldn't let her go, and she hid exactly how much pain she was in… for me." 

Sera's eye grow wide, "Are you saying Lavellan is dying?" 

"I am saying she's protecting you."

Sera scrunches up her nose like she's just smelt something foul, she hadn't, but she's just heard something distasteful. 

"Doesn't need to do that…" Sera mumbles the response out, she doesn't like heroes. Inky doesn't need to be a hero, shoulder it all. Stupid. 

What is there to protect? Sera knows it's happening anyway. Stupid, stupid inky. 

Slowly, Leliana reaches under her desks and places a small box gently on it. With careful, controlled motions, she unlocks the box. 

"Come." The spymaster smiles, Sera shrugs. 

In more slow, careful motions, like Leliana was afraid she'd break something or that something would break her, she pulls one paper from the box. It's folded, crumpled in places and torn in others. 

Leliana breathes in deep, Sera can tell she's choosing her next words carefully, more protecting, more secrets. Leliana has a lot of those, Sera knows it. Doesn't care much for it though, her business to be stuffy. 

"The letters I don't send," Leliana gingerly unfolds the paper in her hand, on it Sera can see words scrawled quickly, then slowly, then lovingly before the turn into dark, angry lines. "Things I wish I could say."

"To who?" 

Leliana places the letter back in the box and then shuts it, locking it again. Breathing in once more, her finger traces the box. "When someone is important to you, you want to protect them, no?"

Deflecting. Hiding. Won't answer the question.

"Lavellan is doing the same for you. Protecting you from feeling sorry, maybe." Sera notices Leliana's jaw tense, odd. 

Leliana pauses, "If she was dying, would you let her go?"

Sera groans, as if the question offends her, and it does. "'Course not. She can't leave."

Leliana smiles slightly, anticipating the response, "I thought the same way." The box is back to its place under her desk and Leliana pulls down her hood to properly look at Sera. "And that's why she's been lying." 

The elf scrunches her nose again, this time because she's lost in thought. Parts of it make no sense, others are clear as day. But either way it means that Lavellan must be…

"No," Sera crosses her arms, "She's not dying, stupid."

"I suppose you can ask her yourself. You have the privilege of that, at least." And with that Leliana gestures to the aforementioned elf, waiting awkwardly by the steps to talk to Sera. 

The spymaster watches as Sera goes off to talk to the inquisitor, it's almost as heartbreaking as it is heartwarming. Leliana knows she isn't due that privilege, and she's almost envious of Sera. At the end of the day, Sera gets to have the woman she loves by her side, dying or not. And she knows Sera is much more grounded in her ways of thinking, much more simplistic. If they talk, they can work things through. 

Maybe Sera would actually send the letters she writes.


End file.
